


and the arms of the ocean are carrying me

by Analyse (D_Willims)



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: But It's Mainly Them, F/F, I Mean Other People are There, I Will Go Down With This Ship, endgame spoilers, it's short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 08:36:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18961690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_Willims/pseuds/Analyse
Summary: At the end, Nebula dreams of Mantis.





	and the arms of the ocean are carrying me

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from "Never Let Me Go" by Florence + The Machine

“You got a guy back home waiting for you?” Tony asks one night, after a meager meal. “A girl?”

“Is everyone on your backwards planet so limited in their views or is it just you?” Nebula snaps in response. Anything to avoid the actual answer to the question posed. There’s no one waiting for her, not anymore, and she’s never had a home.

Tony pouts for the rest of the night. Nebula has learned very fast that he doesn’t like being reminded of the limits of his knowledge, even though it’s not his fault his planet is so technologically disadvantaged.

\--

That night she sleeps for the first time since Thanos recaptured her. Actual _sleep_. Not the blissful oblivion brought on by endless hours of agony. It comes in frustrating fits of pained starts and stops. But its real and its hers.

Nebula tries to keep her breathing calm, even. Tries to preserve their limited air. And she dreams of Mantis. Mantis, delicate like spun sugar. Soft fingertips that smooth out the crease in Nebula’s brow and run down off the edge of her nose. And tender lips that pick up where her fingers leave off, pressed against Nebula’s lips.

“My poor, beautiful Nebula,” Mantis whispers, hushed so no one else on the ship can overhear them. Her voice is like a lullaby. “You hurt so much.”

A gentle hand cradles the back of Nebula’s head. Mantis kisses away the tears Nebula didn’t even realize had fallen. Keeps kissing, traces the seams where mechanical parts meet organic flesh. “Let me take away your pain,” she hums against Nebula’s neck.

It washes over her like a wave, a cool balm that soothes sparking circuitry and aching joints. Nebula sleeps dreamlessly in Mantis’s arms.

\--

Mantis isn’t always soft. She drinks too much hard liquor and gets into bar brawls with her boys. And she celebrates just as hard when they get back to the ship. She dances and sings along to Quill’s music at the top of her lungs. Joyous and raucous and off-key.

Nebula watches from the outside. Can’t tear her gaze away from Mantis.

“Come on. Dance.” Mantis giggles and she dances close. She’s stumbling as much as dancing, almost unsteady on her feet. But her hands are strong and sure as she clutches at Nebula’s fingers. “ _Oh_.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Nebula warns harshly. Because Mantis has this habit of just blurting out everyone’s feelings. And no one’s paying attention, but it’s still painful and embarrassing. Gamora is _right there_. Slow dancing with Quill to a song that isn’t slow in the least, yes, but right there. She could overhear.

“I feel you,” Mantis whispers back.

And she’s forward, brash and confident. She’s been hanging with the idiots too long, Nebula thinks. Because Mantis places Nebula’s hand on her hip to free her hand. Her fingers are soft as they brush against Nebula’s cheek, run to the back of her head and down to settle at the nape of her neck.

The kiss is short. Mantis split her lip in the bar fight and she winces against Nebula. She tastes like blood and liquor and sweet fruit juice. But the kiss is soft, too, and fierce at the same time. _Passionate_.

No one has ever kissed Nebula. Not like that, not ever. And when it’s over she wants to cry. She desperately wants to tug Mantis back in and kiss her again. Needs it like air.

“Meet me in my bunk tonight,” Mantis whispers into Nebula’s ear. Nebula’s knees feel weak.

\--

The last time Nebula sees Mantis, Quill is tying desperately to pull her into his chest. To hold on. But she slips like dust through his fingers. And Nebula _wants_ to resent Quill. He couldn’t save her sister, couldn’t hold onto her love. Couldn’t be trusted with the things that are most precious.

She knew though, she has _always known_ that he couldn’t stand against Thanos. That no one could. In the end, Thanos wins.

He carves Nebula’s heart from her chest and replaces it with something cold and mechanical. For a moment she’d had something warm, though, life in her veins.

It had all been a dream.

\--

It was all terrifyingly real.

The hot spray of her own heart’s blood against her chest. And Gamora’s hand in hers. Gamora who is not _her_ Gamora but wants to be friends, sisters. Nebula’s never letting go again.

And then Mantis is _there_. Light on her feet as she sprints, bounces across the debris-strew battlefield. Pale and glittering in the light of smoldering fires. Easy to track in the smoke that drifts through the air, Mantis is easy to track. Nebula can find her anywhere.

Her arms are so strong and warm and _real_ when she throws them around Nebula’s neck. Nebula doesn’t drop Gamora’s hand but she wraps her free arm around Mantis. Tears fall freely and this time Nebula kisses first. Mantis’s cheeks and temples and eyelids and nose and hair and antennae and lips.

“I feel you,” Mantis whispers. She holds Nebula against her and presses spun-sugar kisses to the side of her head. “Let me take your pain away.”


End file.
